


Chained to the Rhythm

by silentdescant



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Chains, Cock Warming, Comeplay, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 23:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: Scott and Mitch reunite in New York for some kinky fun.





	

The chains slip around the back of Mitch’s neck as Scott tugs them, the smooth, rounded links sliding easily against Mitch’s slick neck. A thin sheen of sweat coats his entire body, making him just damp enough that his hair is flat and sticking to his forehead. Scott pushes his fingers through it and his hand feels cool against Mitch’s scalp. Even the metal chains are too warm from his body and the overly heated hotel room.

Mitch breathes harshly through his open mouth as the sweat prickles down his sternum and at the small of his back. He’s dazed from the heat and from the sharp, musky smell of sex that lingers in the room. The sheets are clammy under his hands and knees, and Scott’s thighs glisten with sweat even under the blond fuzz of his leg hair.

Scott gathers more of the chains in his fist, looping them twice around his palm to take up the excess slack, and with each wrap of the chain he pulls Mitch closer, closer, until the chains bite into Mitch’s skin. He resists, pulls his head back as far as he can, just to feel Scott’s strong grip. It isn’t long, though, before Mitch loses his balance and tips forward. The heavy padlock thumps against the side of his throat as he falls into Scott’s lap, and Scott tightens his hold on the chain to keep him from backing away once he’s there.

Scott’s cock is hard and hot against Mitch’s cheek. Mitch turns his face toward it, drags his open lips up the shaft, and Scott pushes the tip into his mouth, pushing up into the soft part of his cheek. The tight leash keeps him from pulling back far enough to take Scott in properly, and Mitch just holds his mouth open and breathes, exhaling hot air and inhaling Scott’s strong scent. Saliva drips out of the corner of his mouth. Mitch moans. He can’t talk, not with Scott’s cock occupying his mouth the way it is, but he makes his pleas clear with the throaty, desperate noises he can manage.

“You wanna suck it?” Scott asks. His voice is low and gravely, like he’s trying to be quiet even though there’s no reason to be. Mitch has to strain to hear him over the blood pounding through his veins. He moans again and jerks his head in a careful nod, one that makes the padlock rattle against the tight links of the chain.

Scott loosens his grip on the makeshift leash and pulls Mitch’s head up a few inches by his hair. Mitch pants, sucking in deep breaths while he can, because he knows what’s coming next. He looks up, straining to see Scott’s face from this angle.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move,” Scott murmurs. He touches Mitch’s jaw with the hand wrapped in chain, sliding the warm metal down the curve of Mitch’s chin. The heavy links click together and sound like music notes. Mitch closes his eyes. The chain, it’s a _chain_ that ties him to Scott, a chain that’s locked and coiled tight and held firm in Scott’s hand.

“Open,” Scott says.

Mitch’s mouth is already open, his jaw lax, his lips wet with spit, but at Scott’s command he focuses his attention and it becomes a conscious effort to hold himself open and perfectly still. Scott feeds his cock into Mitch’s waiting mouth and draws the chain tight again to prevent Mitch from moving away.

His cock isn’t very deep, just resting on Mitch’s tongue, leaking precome until Mitch is drooling at the taste, but the fact that Mitch can’t move makes it feel like Scott is deep in his throat, cutting off his hair, overtaking all of Mitch’s senses. He can’t breathe properly—even though he can hear his own harsh breaths, can feel the spit sliding down his chin—and he can’t see anything but Scott’s pale skin as he blinks rapidly. There are tears in his eyes and he doesn’t know why, but the blinking makes them fall. His whole face feels wet and slick, and Scott begins thrusting his hips, setting a slow, careful rhythm.

“Close your mouth,” Scott tells him, and Mitch does so without thinking, sealing his lips around the flared head of Scott’s cock. It makes everything more intense, somehow; the taste of Scott’s skin and his sweat and his precome fills Mitch’s mouth, and the friction against his lips makes it even hotter, like Scott is using him—because Scott _is_.

After a while, Scott stops thrusting and pulls Mitch closer, forcing his cock deeper into Mitch’s mouth. He pins Mitch there, and through the fog in his brain, Mitch wonders if this is how the rest of the evening will go, if he’ll just hold Scott’s cock in his mouth for the rest of the night, for the rest of his life, forever. He breathes through his nose and settles his body, leaning more of his weight on Scott’s propped-up knee.

Scott’s hand slides down Mitch’s face and Mitch opens his eyes, curious. Scott grasps his cock instead, his thumb and forefinger around the base with his palm angled down to cup his balls. Mitch can’t see what he’s doing anymore, but he can feel it, the brush of Scott’s knuckles and the curve of his wrist. Scott holds himself and he holds Mitch and the moment stretches for an eternity before Scott moves again. 

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock and strokes, short, quick movements that push up against Mitch’s lips. He can’t back off; Scott wants him right where he is. Scott doesn’t want Mitch to do anything but wait. He’s—Mitch realizes it mere seconds before it happens—he’s jerking himself off into Mitch’s mouth. The sudden rush of come overwhelms Mitch, flooding his mouth. He gags on it, mostly out of surprise, but quickly seals his lips around the head of Scott’s cock and only lets a thin trickle of come leak out of the corner of his mouth.

Scott releases his grip on the chain and pushes Mitch upright, up to his knees. He sways with the sudden shift in his center of gravity and blinks a few times, trying to focus on Scott’s face. The dribble of come slides down his chin.

“Show me,” Scott says breathlessly.

Mitch opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, showing Scott the come pooling there. His chest heaves like he’s just run a mile and he gulps in fresh air as if Scott has just granted him a taste of oxygen.

“Swallow.”

Mitch obeys automatically, swallowing down the come in his mouth and showing Scott his tongue again after.

Scott’s lips curl into a smile and he reaches for Mitch’s chains again. “Good girl,” he says as he tugs Mitch up, reeling him in for a filthy, plundering kiss. He winds the chains tight around his hands again, locking Mitch into place above him until Mitch finally relaxes his arms and lies down fully on Scott’s chest, content to let Scott take control.

 

 _fin_.


End file.
